


Vacation, All I Ever Wanted

by scorose



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Drabbles, F/M, Hotel, Hotel staff, Irish Literature, Modern Era, Pool, Resort, Spring Break, Swimming Pools, Vacation, pool boy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2020-10-27 05:27:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20755082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorose/pseuds/scorose
Summary: Modern AU. Sybil is anxious to get back to school after break, but with a little coaxing from Mary - and an eyeful of one of the resort's pool boys - she may be able to relax and truly enjoy her holiday.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a drabble that came to me at work, completely out of nowhere, and it seemed almost ridiculous but I couldn't not write it. I have more ideas, so I'll likely add on to it at some point.

“Sybil, darling, I can feel the nerves radiating off you,” Mary said, eyes remaining closed behind large, vintage sunglasses as she reclined on a chaise and sunned her ivory skin. “It’s called Easter _Break_ for a reason, you know.”

“Yes, well,” Sybil spluttered from the deck chair she’d pulled up next to her sister. Sybil’s novel sat open in her lap; she’d been trying to read the same page for twenty minutes to no avail; the words of the old Irish classic slipped through her mind like sand through a sieve, and she was retaining none of the literature. After a lifetime of leisure at the family estate, going on holiday felt so trivial when there was work she could otherwise be doing.

“’Well,’ nothing,” Mary replied, finally lifting the glasses by the frames to level Sybil with a perceptive stare. “Lord knows you’ve been studying hard – you deserve a holiday, a proper one.”

At that moment, one of the pool boys walked by, distractingly (and delightfully) shirtless, catching Sybil’s attention. He had sandy hair, eyes brighter than the pool water, and Sybil felt her mouth gape.

“That’s a wonderful book, if you don’t mind me saying so, ma’am,” he remarked, his voice a warm, Irish lilt, pointing to Sybil’s borrowed copy of _Murphy_ before gathering the empty champagne flutes from the small table between the sisters. “Samuel Beckett is obviously a great modernist in his own right, but I find I’m quite partial to James Joyce, m’self; if you’ve not read him, you might consider it.”

It took Sybil a moment to find her words; she glanced to Mary, finding her sister’s eyebrows carefully arched in appraisal of the resort employee behind her sunglasses frames. “I – I will,” she stuttered, voice thick, grip tightening around the pages of the old book. “Thank you,” she added, quickly, as an afterthought, and the pool boy smirked, nodded, and lifted his tray, continuing on to the next cluster of guests.

Mary’s lips were turned up in the corners, enjoying her own private joke as the man sauntered away. “My, my. Well-read, _and_ he fills out those shorts,” the elder Crawley remarked, settling back against the lounge chair.

“Don’t start, Mary,” Sybil said darkly, raising the book to hide her blushing cheeks. She felt hot, and she knew it had nothing to do with the sun.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, dear,” Mary replied, voice carefully absent in a way Sybil knew meant the teasing wasn’t over.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention, I'm not from the UK and this hasn't been Brit-picked. Any mistakes are my own, and if anything seems outlandish, feel free to point out in the comments. I won't be offended.

The sun had just barely risen over the horizon, and Sybil tightened her shawl around herself to shield her exposed skin from the early morning chill. She'd ordered a platter of sausages and eggs and tea for breakfast from the resort kitchens and she was now headed outside to eat at an umbrella-covered table facing the pool. She was completely alone, save one employee, a severe looking woman smoking a cigarette, on the other side of the fence.

Dublin wasn't much of a journey from Yorkshire, but Mary had wanted a getaway and Sybil had wanted to stay close, worried over travel delays and jet lag preventing her from returning to classes on time. Edith had wrinkled her nose but offered Ireland as the sensible option, as anyplace further south would be crowded with tourists. Mary had griped, desiring France as their location, but she'd been overruled. Her stipulation, however, was a resort that would entertain her interests - there had to be a spa and a tennis court, and someplace that entertained to a crowd younger than their parents' age. It was a miracle they'd been able to settle on a spot to cater to all their needs. She'd suffered a horrid breakup just after Christmastime, and her parents wanted their daughters to all have a pleasant Easter holiday.

"Good morning," a familiar voice greeted, jolting Sybil from her musing, and she looked up in surprise to see the Irish pool boy from two days previous, standing over her and carrying a silver tray laden with her breakfast. Whatever words Sybil might have formed in response died on her tongue at the sight of his handsome face. Damn it all. 

He was clothed, today, in a soft-looking white polo with the resort logo on the chest and a smart pair of khaki trousers. He was also, helpfully, wearing a nametag that read, simply, "Tom". 

"You're wearing clothes," Sybil blurted out intelligently, and immediately turned a fetching shade of puce.

His cheek twitched, a smile touching his face, as he lowered the tray to the table. "Sorry to be a disappointment, ma'am," was his cheeky reply, and Sybil spluttered.

"Forgive me," she said, hoping the shrill edge of her voice was only her imagination and not reality. "I'm afraid I'm not quite awake yet, and that was quite... well, I'm sorry."

"No offense taken, ma'am," he reassured her with a grin, clasping his hands behind his back. "Is there anything else I can get for you?"

"No, this is perfect. Thank you," she said, offering a smile as she lifted her teacup to her lips and taking a quick sip. "But, um," she added quickly, stopping him short as he turned to leave. "It's Sybil. My name, that is. You can call me Sybil."

"Sybil," he repeated, and she felt goosebumps rise across her skin, the hair at the back of her neck standing up in the most delightful way at the sound of her name in his honey-like Irish burr. "Tom," he introduced himself, offering his hand. Sybil nearly upended her teacup in her haste to set it down, and he was grinning when her hand clasped his. She looked up to meet his ocean blue gaze, distracted enough to forgo shaking and merely holding his hand gently in hers.

The moment was shattered, however, by the crackling static of a small two-way radio coming to life. "_Branson_?" a tinny, gruff voice said. Tom dropped Sybil's hand with an apologetic grimace and snatched the radio from where it was clipped to his belt.

"Yes, Mr. Carson, copy."

"_There are more breakfast orders to be taken up, in case you've forgotten. Please return to the kitchen at once_." Mr. Carson appeared to be Tom's boss, and judging by his curt tone, Tom was needed back inside.

"Yes, sir," Tom said dutifully, returning the walkie to its spot on his belt and clearing his throat. "If you need anything else please do not hesitate to ask," he told Sybil in a rush, as though reading from a script, as he backed towards the closest door.

"I won't," Sybil promised, heart fluttering at the smile he flashed her before he turned away. And if she had to sit for a minute to compose herself before she began eating, well, there was nobody else around to notice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be at least one more, if not two, of these! I have one written in need of some editing. And more ideas... always more ideas.


	3. Chapter 3

“She’s a pretty thing, sure enough, but don’t let her be a distraction.”

Tom looked up in surprise from the dishes he was clearing. Sarah O’Brien, one of the lead housekeepers of the resort, was staring at him down her nose with her usual sneer. 

“I was out having a smoke this morning and saw you chatting her up,” she informed him in explanation. “Might I remind you the rules on fraternizing with guests?”

“We were just having a chat,” he insisted, fighting the urge to roll his eyes as he lifted his tray. O’Brien was a notorious snitch, and wasn’t above playing dirty if it made her look good in the eyes of the resort owners. Tom knew the Carsons weren’t entirely fooled by O’Brien’s dramatics, but he was relatively new and didn’t need his name brought up negatively to them, by _her_ least of all. “She recognized me from Thursday.”

Tom started towards the kitchen with his tray, and to his irritation O’Brien followed him like a shadow.

“When they paraded you around in your knickers?” she asked him, amused.

Tom bit his tongue. He hadn’t been thrilled by the change in uniform when he had to wait poolside on the guests in a pair of pool shorts too small for his liking. But he’d be stupid to complain about the extra hours, or the tips, and the way that lovely young woman – Sybil – stared at him as though he were some sort of model… well, it more than made up for the humiliation.

“Suppose she’s persistent,” O’Brien said then, stepping around Tom just before they reached the kitchen door, blocking his way in. Tom sighed, setting O’Brien with a stern look. She didn’t flinch. 

“I’ll inform her of our rules,” he finally relented, carefully stepping around her. “Dunno why you’re so concerned,” he threw over his shoulder, not bothering to hang around for her answer.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't forgotten about this fic, I swear! Life happened. But I've got another drabble written and more ideas so stay tuned.

Sybil’s eyes flashed about for a sign as she rounded a corner, and she walked headlong into a solid and rather warm something.

“Fancy seeing you here... _Sybil_,” Tom greeted with a rather mischievous grin, gripping her by the elbows to steady her.

“I’m sorry!” Sybil gasped apologetically, sighing, her body drooping slightly. “Mary’s asked me to meet her at the spa, but I’m afraid quite lost –”

Tom seemed to realize he was still holding onto Sybil’s arms, and he dropped them quickly, stepping back. His cheeks were pink when he responded, “I’ll show you where you’re headed, if you like.”

“Oh, you’re my saviour!” Sybil said cheerfully, smiling warmly in response. Tom gestured for her to follow him, and so she did, biting her lip bashfully as she went.

“Are you enjoying your stay?” Tom asked after a moment, leading her around another corner.

“Oh yes!” Sybil said, perking up. “Sisterly bonding time is _always_ wonderful. Mary’s been practicing law with Papa, and Edith is in London working for a paper – I’ve been away at school – and we just haven’t had a chance to be together like this in awhile. And my parents will join us tomorrow, for a few days. A proper holiday.”

Tom was smiling as he stepped aside to hold open the door to the spa area for Sybil, who grinned in response. “I hope it’s every bit as good as you’d like it to be, and more,” he said, his voice sincere.

“Thank you so much,” she told him, reaching forward impulsively to grasp at his upper arm and give his bicep a little squeeze. “I owe you!” she added over her shoulder as she disappeared into the reception area, and Tom let the door close behind her, heading back towards the lobby with an extra spring in his step.


End file.
